


Erzbrecher

by SassAsAFreeAction



Category: No More Heroes (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, Inspired by Roleplay/Roleplay Adaptation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 02:01:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11476266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SassAsAFreeAction/pseuds/SassAsAFreeAction
Summary: A quick glimpse at the set up of the punk rock band Erzbrecher, led by lead vocalist Letz Shake, known assassin.





	Erzbrecher

Seeming to collapse, the punk rocker draped himself on top of the amp currently emitting the sounds of a bass guitar. It vibrated roughly beneath him as he had adjusted the volume and sound so that a loud electric and guttural sound came from it before his fellow band member started to play. He rubbed a hand over the sandpaper cut of the speaker. “Such fantastic rumblings,” he seemed to purr.

Climbing the stairs to the stage, the guitarist, a broad shouldered blonde with a poor dye job and a messy mop for hair, sighed. He approached another nearby amp as he listened to the warped bass strumming. Concerned, he turned his head only to spot the lounger. “Letz, get off my fucking stage,” he growled, taking off his sunglasses so he could better glare at the green haired vocalist.

“I should be present for ze setting up,” Letz Shake argued from behind the violet bandana covering his mouth. He lifted only his head up so that he could be heard more clearly as he spoke.

“Nein, all you have to do is set up ze mics,” the guitarist argued. He approached Letz and tugged the bandana down from his mouth, shattering the illusion. Really, he never understood why the vocalist covered his mouth in the first place. The only blemish Letz suffered from was the scar of what had probably started out as a nasty gash on his cheek. His high cheekbones made him seem a little sunken in as well. They were supposed to be a punk band though so if anything, having their lead singer be scrapped up was excellent for their image.

As quickly as the bandana had been yanked down, Letz pulled it back up without fail. Maybe it was like a superhero’s mask to him, but there were two flaws to that theory: One, Letz was an assassin and two, nothing had been more conspicuous than the robot that he traveled around with that towered over a majority of their sets. People knew who he was.

“I already did,” Letz pointed out, still never moving from his perch.

Their bass player strolled over to one of the microphones and tapped it. A loud and resounding echo traveled through the area. “All good, Kupfer.” He offered a thumbs-up before running a hand over his bald head.

Kupfer only narrowed his eyes more as he continued to glare at Letz, who had gone back to petting the amp. “Step away from the goddamn amp and get off the stage, _Bernd_.”

Upon hearing his real first name, Letz cringed. He had hated how stuffy it had sounded since he was a child, even though he had grown up in what had been a more European area of Singapore where such a name was common. It did the trick though and he stood up. Trailing to the edge of the stage, he muttered something about the restroom. As he jumped down, he called back. “Don’t do ze vhining to me vhen you have trouble vith something.”

“Ve von’t!” Kupfer snapped, shouting after him.

While he may have been an expert with technology, self-proclaimed mind you, Letz had no idea what Kupfer had done in his absence to cause a rain of sparks from the set. By the looks of it, he was fussing with either their lights or their fog machine. Letz roared with laughter. “Kann ich dir helfen?”

“Fick dich,” Kupfer shouted.

Clambering up onto the stage, still chuckling to himself nonetheless, Letz pushed Kupfer aside. From the corner of his mouth peaked his tongue as he fiddled with a tangle of wires and plugs. He grunted with the last few finishing touches before turning from the lights and fog machine. Not seconds before, their drummer joined them on stage.

* * *

The fog shrouded him from the screaming fans, but the lights made his silhouette dance. He popped the collar of his leather jacket before spinning around, incredibly light. The tail of his jacket furled. As he stepped out of the fog, the crowd roared. Letz motioned for them to be louder, a hand to his ear. He grinned before tossing his microphone and catching it shortly afterward. Behind him, a simple rhythm came from the bass guitarist, Eisen; he was background noise, warming up as Kupfer came to join him. Blei spun his drumsticks ideally in his hands.

“Guten Abend!” Letz called to the crowd. A cheer followed. “Sind sind soweit?“ Another cheer. “Super! Hallo. Prepare yourselves for Erzbrecher!” He snapped his fingers before staring back at the rest of the band, laughing into the microphone before he croaked out the first few words of the song.


End file.
